


Pick Ourselves Undone

by Nova_8



Series: Elementary Faith [1]
Category: Supertime, once upon a supernatural
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 04:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nova_8/pseuds/Nova_8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.” <br/>― Louise Erdrich</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is. This work is in progress, and I'm working on constructing a schedule for regular posting, but there will most likely be times where I don't make deadlines, and I apologize in advance.
> 
> I hope you're in for the long run, because I have a whole universe for these characters and its going to be a long, emotional road, for more than just Emma and Dean.
> 
> So buckle in, get comfortable. Welcome to the Elementary Faith!Verse.

Emma Swan glanced around the corner of a large, empty alley, seeing her way out of this city. In the middle of the alley, parked off to the right was a pristine black muscle car. She had been walking by this alley for a couple of days now, and the car had not moved.  At first, she was really suspicious, still was in fact. Who in their right mind would leave such a nice car in the middle of nowhere? It occurred to her that it could possibly be a setup soon after that. That the police were waiting for someone to attempt to steal it and arrest them. It was a chance she would have to take. Without a second to hesitate, she turned the corner and with purposeful step, approached the car. It appeared empty, save for a large blanket in the backseat. That could come in handy.

She took a deep breath as she let the slim jim slide out of her sleeve. She was lucky this car was so old, or else she wouldn’t be able to use this. With care and efficiency, she slowly rocked the slim jim until she felt it get a hold of the lock rod. Taking in another short breath, she moved it a little more until she heard a _click_. She let out a gust of air as she began to open the door. It opened noisily and she involuntarily froze for a second before sliding into the driver’s seat, transferring her bag to her lap. She cringed as the door was just as loud closing as it was opening.

She reached into her bag, trying to slow her heart rate, and pulled out a screwdriver. Just as she leaned forward to feel under the steering wheel, she heard a flurry of movement behind her. Before she could react, she heard the _click_ of a safety being turned off.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A male voice said behind her.  She sat completely still, but shifted her gaze to the rearview mirror. A pair of green eyes were glaring at her, alit with anger. He was handsome, she would give him that, and he looked exactly the type to own this kind of car. He wore a heavy looking leather jacket that looked a little big on him. Next to him was the grey blanket she saw covering the backseat when she had approached the car. She condemned herself for not noticing that he was under it, though he did hide fairly well. “Get out of the car. Now,” he said, his voice ran through with contained anger.

She moved to get out, and the pair of them slowly emerged. He was still pointing his handgun at her. She met his gaze with the same intensity he was exuding, with a bravery she didn’t feel. Her heart was racing, and the last thing she wanted to be was shot, but she couldn’t let herself appear afraid. She sorted through her options in the silence while he stared her down.

Option one. She could run, though she wasn’t fast enough to outrun bullets should he decide to shoot her. Option two. She could try to knock the gun out of his hand and then kick his lights out. That one was less likely than the first. The safety was off, and if she tried to do that, the chance of the gun going off and ricocheting bullets were likely. Option three. Appeal to his sympathies. She despised this option. She would most likely have to beg and plead and she didn’t want to appear pathetic.

After a few seconds, he spoke, breaking her from her reverie. “Hand over your bag,” He said, out stretching his free hand. She couldn’t stop her expression from falling, even if it was only slight. He tilted his head expectantly at her hesitation.  Reluctantly, she stepped forward and placed the shoulder strap over his hand. He stared her down for a moment longer before dropping his eyes to her red-orange bag. He handed it back to her, realizing he couldn’t exactly look in it with it slung over his hand like he did.

“Hold it open,” he said, his voice still fortified with anger. She held open her bag with the same reluctance she had when she had handed over. He looked down into the bag as she kept her eyes on the hand gun. Being in such a close proximity to the gun made her significantly more uneasy. She didn’t know this guy. She had no idea what he was going to do to her. The seconds felt like they had stretched into miles as her heart beat a tattoo against her chest, staring at the barrel of his gun.

He lifted his head then, turning the safety back on on his gun. She shifted her gaze to his face and found sympathy in it, especially his eyes.  She quickly zipped her bag and slung it back over her shoulder. She was at a loss of what to do next. More than anything, she wanted to go, get away from the shame and the fear pounding in waves through her.

“I’m-“

“Wha-,” They both started at the same time. They both paused, the silence awkward with who should speak first. “What’s your name?” He finally asked. She knew it was probably in her best interests to lie, so she could protect herself, but she already tried to steal the dude’s car while he was sleeping in it, and she didn’t think she could handle anymore guilt today.

“Swan,” She said after only a second, deciding to forgo her first name. He nodded, stowing the gun in the back of his pants and then putting his hands in his pockets.

“Mine’s Winchester,” He told her. How ironic, she thought to herself. The guy that was just pointing a gun at her went with a name of a gun. She couldn’t be sure if that was his real name. She felt like throwing up upon seeing all the ever-increasing unexplained sympathy on his face where there was once hard lines and steely anger. “Do you want to get something to eat, Swan?” She immediately shook her head.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m going anywhere with you. You pulled a gun on me!” She crossed her arms. He looked genuinely taken aback.

“You tried to steal my car!” He said back with the same defiance.

“I said I was sorry!” She fired back. She wouldn’t go anywhere with him anyway. He could be some deranged sociopath.

“Did you?” He asked incredulously.

“I-“ She cut off herself off. No, she didn’t. She had started to, but never finished. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I almost stole your car,” She said, and it was true. She was genuinely sorry. 

“I know,” He said with a nod.  She began to walk away again, hoping to forget this whole thing. “Swan. Wait,” He called after her. She grimaced before turning slightly to face him. “I can’t let you go without getting you some food. Or money for food.” It then hit her like a ton of bricks. _He knew._ He knew that she was homeless. He knew she was desperate. He had seen her meager bag of possessions. He saw how little she had, _and he pitied her._

“I don’t need your charity,” She said, an edge to her voice.  He looked amused.

“It’s just lunch, I’m not giving you a million dollars,” He said, his eyebrows raised expectantly. “Besides, you tried to steal my car. I think having lunch with me is the least you can do.” Though his tone was light, she realized that he was probably as lonely as she was. He appeared to have as much as she did, though she had no idea what was in the trunk of his car. She was still wary of him, however well-meaning he seemed at this moment. She knew self-defense though, so if he tried anything without her consent, she would make him regret it.

“Fine,” she said after a few seconds. Neither of them moved for a few short moments, but then he walked over to the passenger side of his car and opened the door.  She made her way over at a normal pace and then they were both inside and he was driving them away. 


	2. Thin Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Even when you’d lost everything you thought there was to lose, somebody came along and gave you something for free.” -Jenny Valentine

Dean Winchester is on a hunt when someone breaks into his car. He swore silently to himself. Of course someone would try to steal his car right in the middle of this hunt. For a week he had been tracing this vampire. It wasn’t hard to find him. The trail he left was messy as he took no care to hide his kills, the cocky son of a bitch. The tricky part was waiting, and that’s what Dean was doing today, camouflaged under his huge wool blanket.

He waited a few seconds and then sprung out of his hiding place, pulling out his gun as he sat up.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Sitting in the driver seat was a girl, straightening instantly upon hearing him. She held a screwdriver in her hand. He noticed her eyes shift to the rearview mirror to see him better. Of all the times the past few days, she chooses now to steal his car? In the back of his mind, he wonders if she’s a diversion and that the vampire knows a Winchester is looking for him. Something in him tells him she isn’t but it doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be careful. She obviously isn’t a vamp though, since its daylight and her skin isn’t burning off her.

“Get out of the car. Now,” He said with a little more force than was probably necessary. As soon as she started to get out, he moved in time with her, taking care to keep the gun trained on her. When they both were fully out of the car he took a few seconds to study her.

She was young, couldn’t be older than twenty. She was an average height; around 5’3” was his guess. She looked like she had a pretty decent set up as a car thief too. Clothes, especially the leather she was wearing, and glasses weren’t exactly cheap. He brought his eyes back up to her face, and was impressed by the calm expression he found there, except for her eyes. There was intensity in them, and he took note of that.

“Hand over your bag,” He said, extending his left arm, holding open his hand for it. Her face fell slightly, but she took quick control of her expression almost instantly. With a reluctant shuffle towards him, she slung the shoulder strap over his hand. He glanced at it, realizing he couldn’t possibly look in it with one hand. He handed it back to her. “Hold it open.” She opened it with the same willingness as when she had handed it to him. He almost smirked before looking into her bag.

He wasn’t sure why he had asked to see what was in her bag. It was a clear invasion of her privacy. Maybe it was a curiosity to see what else he had. He didn’t know. He peered into the bag, and every expectation about what he thought he was going to see went out the door. He had expected wads of cash, some sort of weapon and whatever else girls kept in their bags. The bag had hardly anything in it, despite its size. It held maybe one or two shirts and a pair of pants. That’s all he could see without digging.

It hit him like a ton of bricks then. This girl was on her own, homeless, possibly a runaway. Any anger that he had at her stealing his car before dissipated. Of course, it was still wrong that she did it, but he wasn’t going to do anything to her, wasn’t his place. He raised his head then, turning the safety of his hand gun back on. He let himself study her one more time for a moment with this new discovery in mind. He wanted to help this girl somehow. Maybe give her some money. Yeah, he could do that.

“I-“

“Wha-“ They both started at the same time. He paused for a moment and when she gave no indication she was going to speak began again. “What’s your name?”

“Swan,” She said after a second. He wondered if she was lying, but nodded anyway and stowed his gun away. He didn’t want her to feel threatened anymore. He shoved his hand into the deep pockets of his father’s leather jacket.

“Mine’s Winchester,” He replied. She wore an expression he couldn’t understand and the silence was starting to get to be too long. “Do you want to get something to eat, Swan?” She shook her head almost immediately.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m going anywhere with you. You pulled a gun on me!” She crossed her arms over her chest. He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“You tried to steal my car!” He replied with the same level of stubbornness.

“I said I was sorry!” He felt his brow furrow.

“Did you?” He asked, knowing very well she hadn’t.

“I-“ She cut herself off and her expression turned soft before inhaling deeply. “I’m sorry I almost stole your car,” She said, and he could tell she truly was.

“I know,” He said, giving a small reassuring smile. She began to walk away then, and he grimaced only slightly. He couldn’t live with it on his conscience if he knew she was walking around this city alone without food or money. There was also the matter of the vampire that stalked these streets at night. He needed to know she would be safe before he let her go. He turned around.

“Swan, wait.” He didn’t expect her to stop, but was glad she did. She turned a little to face him. “I can’t let you go without getting you some food. Or money for food.” Surprise flitted through her eyes, and if he hadn’t been paying close attention he wouldn’t have caught it.

“I don’t need your charity,” She said, and he couldn’t help but smile a little at that. It was so the opposite of charity.

“It’s just lunch, I’m not giving you a million dollars,” He raised his eyebrows a little, turning on ‘the charm’. “Besides, you tried to steal my car. I think having lunch with me is the least you can do.”

“Fine,” She agreed after a few seconds and in another few seconds they were driving away.

* * *

 

A few minutes later, he was seated across from her at a retro looking diner. She looked visibly less tense in a public place, and he was thankful for that. With some food and drink, hopefully he could get her guard down enough to try to get her out of the city, but that would require some serious luck. She had only just met him. Emma didn’t trust this guy. She didn’t trust anyone, really, but she felt obligated to sit through this lunch after trying to steal his car. She hoped her shame would be gone after this. She also hoped he didn’t want to talk much.

After they ordered their drinks, Dean idly flipped through the menu. He already knew what he wanted; he just needed to organize his thoughts. He snuck some glances at the young blonde sitting across from him in the span of two minutes before lifting his head and sliding his menu to the end of the table. She made a concerted effort not to look at him, giving the menu more focus than was necessary.

“Is your last name really Swan?” She stared down at her menu for another few seconds before raising her eyes to his for a second, and then dropped them back to the menu. She could’ve guessed he would’ve thought she was lying.

“Is yours really Winchester?” He smiled.

“Yeah, it is.” He answered. She looked up again, and there was disbelief in her eyes. His smile faded a little. “What?” She laughed once.

“It’s just..I thought you were being ironic.” It was his turned to be confused.

“Ironic?” He probed.

“Because Winchester is a brand of gun. I thought..”  Understanding dawned on him. She thought that he thought they were using codenames and he adopted Winchester because he had a gun on her. He laughed, and she looked a little amused, too. “Yes, my last name really is Swan.” She answered finally.

“You got a first name there, Swan?” He asked as she slid her menu off to the side. She placed her elbows on the table and looked at its surface before looking back up at him. She considered lying.

“You first,” and he nodded.

“Dean. Dean Winchester.”

“My name is Emma.” He could tell she wasn’t lying.

“Pretty name,” He observed. Emma Swan. It had a nice ring to it. They sat in silence for a few moments before the waitress came over and took their orders cheerily. When she was gone, Dean had his next series of questions ready.

“Can I ask you some questions, Emma?” He looked at her with serious eyes, but tried not to seem intimidating. She shrugged, not really wanting to be rude but not wanting to answer either.

“Ask away. I might have answers.” There was a short pause, and it was heavy.

“Did you run away from home?”

“Nope,” She answered. So that’s the kind of questions he wanted to ask. The last thing she wanted was this guy’s pity, and she knew he would be able to tell if she lied. She kept her gaze fixed on the surface of the table, lest it betray her.

“Do your parents know where you are?” Her expression darkened.

“No parents,” She admitted.

“Emma, do you have a home?” She shook her head, not trusting her voice to speak. This guy really didn’t beat around the bush. She appreciated that in a small part of herself. She should’ve never tried to steal that damn car. He looked out the window thoughtfully, out of questions for now. He knew he wanted to help her, but he wasn’t sure how much help she would accept. He had a couple of options here.

He could give her money to get an apartment, maybe stay in this city a couple more weeks until he knows she’s all set up and has a job. He couldn’t see that one happening. Option two, he could take her to Bobby’s and Bobby could help her with whatever she needs. She might trust Bobby more than him. The third option, the least likely of all of them, was she could travel with him. She didn’t really seem like the settling type to him, and though he would have to give up hunting for a while, that could help her get onto her feet. His last option was to rent her a hotel room, leave for a couple hours and let her shower and sleep, whatever she had to do, give her money and then never see her again. That one didn’t sit very well with him. He took a deep breath.

“Listen, I can’t leave here after this, knowing you have nowhere to go.” He looked at her, hoping she would look up.

“I told you. I don’t want your charity.” She suddenly felt sick again, and ironically, the waitress came with their food then. He took in another breath after the waitress walked away.

“And I don’t think you’re some cause.” She looked up at him then, and he gave her a small, reassuring smile. She couldn’t think about the implications of that statement. It was too much, and he was a stranger. “I could take you to my foster father,” He said after a few moments.

“You were in the system?”  She asked. She could see that. He did have a little bit of that look in his eyes.

“No, um, that was a poor choice of words. He’s more my godfather, I guess. Took care of my brother and I when my dad wasn’t around.” He paused. “He could help you get a car and find a place to live, if that’s what you want. He could also get you a job.” Her gaze dropped back to the table for a few seconds. Why was he being so generous? What did he want?

“I don’t know you, and I don’t know him,” She answered, returning her gaze to his face. He nodded.

“Fair enough. Hold on.” He pulled the flip phone Bobby gave to him out of his pocket. “I can call him, and you can talk to him, if that would help,” Her eyes flitted between the phone in his hand and him.

“I can’t,” She said, shaking her head.

“You can’t what?”

“I can handle myself, I don’t... I don’t need your help,” She said, though there wasn’t much strength in what she was saying. He set the phone on the table and drummed his fingers for a moment. Something told him she most likely wouldn’t budge on this, no matter how many reassuring words he gave her. He could give her the full, absolute truth. He could tell her about monsters and that it wasn’t safe for her to be wandering around. She would be an easier target, being homeless, female, and young.

“I’m not saying you can’t handle yourself,” He paused. “Emma, look at me.” He waited until she raised her eyes. “This isn’t a handout. I’m not asking for anything in return. All I’m trying to do is give you some help. I know you don’t want to rely on anyone, but it isn’t safe for you to be on your own.” He tried to fill that last statement with as much warning as he could without sounding too serious. She saw the truth in what he was saying. What if she attempted to steal someone else’s car and didn’t get so lucky?

“So, your godfather, Bobby?” He gave her a nod. “He could get me a car?”

“Yes. He has a salvage yard, and you could pick the one you want.” They sat in silence for a few seconds as she contemplated his words. It was a pretty good offer, and if it was a salvage yard, they were cars people didn’t really want anyway. There was poetry to that, the orphan girl getting an orphan car.

“Where is it? This salvage yard.”

“It’s in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Think you could bear riding with me for a couple days?”  She inhaled deeply.

“I think I could manage that,” She answered. His answering smile was a bright one, and she couldn’t help but smile back. They spent the rest of lunch in companionable silence.


	3. Masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can keep as quiet as you like, but one of these days, somebody is going to find you." - Haruki Murakami

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray for chapter three! Sorry it took me so long to update, i really have no excuse as why it took me so long.
> 
> This chapter isn't beta-ed, so if you see any typos, let me know!

Dean stood outside the bathroom door, fidgeting a little. “Uh, Emma?” Emma glanced at the door, pulling her hair back swiftly.

“Yeah?” She answered. It had been nothing but awkward since her and Dean started traveling two days ago, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to remedy it. Paired with his odd, furtive behavior and somewhat vague statements she couldn’t even begin to dissect, it had been a weird forty eight hours.

“I’ve got some stuff to take care of. I’m gonna leave the car, but it would be best if you stayed here,” He looked up at the ceiling as he spoke, adjusting his tie for probably the fiftieth time. He really hated suits. Emma’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She had a feeling they would be staying in this town longer than planned.

“Okay,” She finally answered.

“I’m leaving the keys and some money on the bedside table if you want to go out to eat or order pizza or something.”

“Thanks,” She called back. She pressed her ear to the door and within a few seconds heard a door close. She left the bathroom then, seating herself on one of the beds.

Dean Winchester was deliberately keeping something from her, Emma had realized. Of course, she knew he wouldn’t be opening up like a book and telling her his life story. She wasn’t going to do that either. But he was all kinds of secretive, and she couldn’t help but feel suspicious. She tapped her heel on the carpet, debating searching Dean’s things. He hadn’t really said where he was going or when he would be back.  It was a risk she would have to take, she thought as she began to leave the motel room a few minutes later. She snatched the money and key as she went, putting the money and her room key in her pocket. She slung the duffel Dean had given her over her shoulder, just to be on the safe side. There was sadness in his eyes when he had handed it to her two days ago. She didn’t ask, but she had to guess that it had previously belonged to someone important.

She glanced around the parking lot before crossing it to the impala, ‘Baby,’ Dean had called it. She approached the trunk and lifted its lid. It was pretty empty, a couple blankets and pillows shoved all the way in the back. There was a first aid kit and some flashlights on the left side. Just as she was about to close it when she noticed a seam.

“A false bottom,” She murmured to herself, biting her lip thoughtfully. _Please don’t be a body, please don’t be a body,_ she chanted in her head as she fumbled to lift it. What she saw almost made her stagger back.

Weapons. Of all kinds. Long, wide blades. Shorter, serrated ones. Guns, too many to possibly identify. Cluttered in with all of it were a couple of canisters of salt, as well as some weird symbols drawn on to the lid of it. She tried to take control of her breathing as she closed both the false bottom and the trunk. What kind of person needs that many weapons? She stood still for a few short seconds, paralyzed with fear.

She had to go, she had to get out of here. It all made sense now, and she should’ve never agreed to go with him in the first place. She half ran, half walked back to the motel. She quickly shoved the rest of her belongings in the duffel , making it a haphazard mess.

As she started to leave through the lobby, she realized the front desk was unattended. As quickly and efficiently as the adrenalin running through her veins let her, she stole some money. She fumbled a little, taking only as much as she needed, dashing out in just over thirty seconds.

Dim, cold sunlight hit her face as she walked briskly across the lot, keeping her eyes on her feet. In her periphery, someone entered her vision, walking in her direction. She allowed herself a fleeting glance, and recognized the figure as Dean. She felt her heart drop like a rock into her stomach, but kept walking as if she didn’t see him.

Her mind moved at a million miles an hour as she considered what to do as he approached. She could start running, though he was most likely armed and could stop her with a bullet. She could defend herself, knock his lights out and call the police. Or she could act like she didn’t know, tell him she was going to do something and never come back. The third option felt the safest. He was jogging over to her by the time she had reached that conclusion.

“Hey,” he said when he reached her, glancing at her bag. “Going somewhere?” He asked, slightly motioning to the duffel.

“Uh, yeah,” She said, looking over her shoulder at the motel. “I was going to explore while I waited,” She explained as she looked back at him.

“With all your stuff,” He said incredulously. She nodded.

“I didn’t feel comfortable leaving it.” He nodded then, still looking unconvinced.

“Let me drive you,” He said. “You have the keys, right?” She reached into her pocket and dropped them into his hand, not trusting her hands not to shake.

“I don’t need a ride, I want to walk,” She answered back almost too quickly, her fight or flight still in high gear.

Behind her, she heard swearing. Shit, she thought. The manager had realized money was missing.

“I insist,” He said, and she shook her head.

“I’m not getting in the car with you,” She said firmly, and she realized then that she possibly just gave herself away. The manager crashed out of the motel then. Realization washed over Dean as she spoke. She had found the false bottom, and he chastised himself for leaving the keys with her. Emma shifted from foot to foot, more nervously than before, and Dean made the connection between the red faced manager and her fidgeting.

“I can explain,” He told her, though he knew he would most likely lie about the true nature of it. “We have to go, now.” He had to admit he was mildly impressed at her resourcefulness and her stubbornness.

“No,” She answered, shaking her head vehemently.

“Do you want to go to jail?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Better jail than dead,” She fired back, eyes flaring.

“You saw them. Don’t you think I would’ve hurt you by now if that’s what I wanted?” Okay, not the greatest reassurance, he thought to himself. They were running out of time. She grimaced.

“I don’t trust you.”

“Good,” He said, and they both dashed across the lot and were speeding away before the manager could realize it was them. They drove in silence for a few, long minutes as Emma tried to get her nerves under control.

“Explain,” She demanded, turning an unflinching gaze onto his profile. They were out of the town now, onto a highway, much to Dean’s chagrin. He made a mental note to get Bobby to send a hunter here. He fiddled with the radio, not responding to Emma, trying to choose a lie. “Explain,” She said again, anger flaring in her. The radio jumped a station at the same time.

“I’m an exterminator,” He said after a few seconds. That wasn’t a total lie. He exterminated monsters, not bugs. He couldn’t give her the full truth. The second she knew, she would never be free, and he couldn’t possibly condemn her. He just met her. It was better he not make her afraid of the dark. You’ve already doomed her, a voice in the back of his mind told him. Just by knowing you, the voice continued. He gripped the steering wheel tighter. He heard her laugh mirthlessly next to her, and she was shaking her head.

“What kind of exterminator needs weapons like that?”

“The bugs are really big,” He elaborated. Emma turned her gaze back to the dashboard, grimacing, her hands clenching into fists in her lap.

“Pull over,” She said, and the radio station jumped again. Dean gave the radio a confused glance, fiddling with it, ignoring her again. “Pull over,” She repeated, the anger pushing out all her fear. Several things happened at once. The radio began scanning, jumping through bits of static, talking, and jumbled music. The windshield wipers started up, going at their fastest speed. And last, the impala began to slow without Dean applying the brake. Dean swore, slamming on the brakes, sending a jolt to the two of them. Was his car possessed? He didn’t have time to investigate because as soon as they were stopped, Emma was out of the car and storming away. He swore again, launching himself out of the car and after her.

“Emma, wait,” He called at her retreating figure. She only shook her head, and he began running to catch up with her. It occurred to him then that if he wanted her to stay; he would have to tell her the truth. He knew he should let her go, let her keep walking and have them go their separate ways. You selfish son of a bitch, he thought to himself as he caught up to her but kept trailing just behind. She deserved the truth, right? That rationalization was weak in his mind. He stopped walking.

“I hunt monsters,” He blurted out before he could hesitate a moment longer. She paused, this answer seeming more ridiculous than the exterminator one. And possibly more dangerous. Monsters couldn’t possibly exist. Was he crazy? She turned to face him and the seriousness and open honesty in his face made the retorts in her throat die. She took a couple of small steps forward.

“Monsters?” She repeated, unable to keep the incredulousness she felt out of her voice. He nodded.

“Ghosts, vampires, werewolves..” He trailed off, ticking them off on his fingers as he spoke.

“You expect me to believe that?” She said, crossing her arms. If what he said was true, wouldn’t more of the world know? He mimicked her stance, making them equal pillars of stubbornness.

“Believe it or don’t, that’s your call. The only way most people believe is if something happens to them, and by that time, they’re dead. I can’t give you proof,” He said, his last statement filled with an emotion she didn’t want to analyze. _Protectiveness_ , her mind whispered to her, and she ignored it.

Dean ran a hand over his face, turning a hard gaze to the pavement. He ached with all the emotions and experience that he had buried under blood and fire. His life was shoving it down and ‘Emotions are weakness, Dean’. So he locked it all in a place that not even he could reach at times. He wanted to tell her everything, and that scared him, as much as he wouldn’t admit it. He could see in her eyes that she would understand. He had seen the same look in her eyes that he saw in his when he looked back at himself.

Maybe he was just projecting, and she wouldn’t understand at all. His brother was away at college, his father was god knows where. Maybe he was just desperate and she was the first unlucky person to cross his path. He’s shaking his head then, and he can feel Emma’s eyes on him.

He can’t tell her everything. She’ll run, she’ll leave, and damn it, he’s only known her two days. He feels his hands drop to his sides, clenching into fists. He can’t look at her. She would never believe him.

“This is stupid,” He said aloud without thinking.

“Excuse me?”  He hears her says. He lifts his gaze, and there’s nothing but confusion in her face. He grimaces weakly, swearing silently.

“Not you,” He said, shaking his head again. He inhaled deeply, the extra oxygen calming him.

“Really?” She said. Her voice was filled with wariness. Much deeper, there was fear. Despite his assurance that he wasn’t a murderer, she still felt Dean was dangerous, and she was alone on a highway with him.

“It’s not you,” He says again, and there’s a weariness in his voice that runs bone deep. It’s in that moment that Emma decides she believes him. Yeah, she’s still scared, and she knows he won’t tell her everything. Some of her fear does slide away from her then, because somehow she knows he won’t hurt her, and won’t let these monsters get to her. She doesn't try to think too much about how she knows that. She just knows it, a gut feeling, really. Slowly, she’s approaching him, trying to catch his eye.

Their green eyes meet and there’s silence for a few seconds. She sees pain in his eyes, hidden way down deep and wonders idly how much of that pain is hidden. She takes a deep breath, lifting a hand to his upper arm as if touch would make the next three words more true.

“I believe you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Laura and Shelley, without them, this fic wouldn't be possible.


End file.
